


Something to Believe In

by Ainsley_olive



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Neil plays guitar and sings, Slow Burn, Touring, and he's pretty good at it, band au, im really bad a tags, this is my first fic ever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-09-28 10:02:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10090313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ainsley_olive/pseuds/Ainsley_olive
Summary: His mother would have given him a black eye and bruised ribs if she knew how long he had been in the city, surrounded by people, and cameras; she would have killed him if she knew what he had done to get enough money to eat or sleep in a place he didn’t have to break into.





	1. You're in ruins

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys. So this is my first ever attempt at writing fan fiction and posting it where people can read it so I'm a little nervous about everything. Also, I'm from Australia so there may be some inaccuracies due to that, I'm trying to research things that I'm unsure about but it's a little difficult sometimes. However I'm really excited about this fic though and I hope enjoy it. Comments would be much appreciated. 
> 
> Shout out to Kit (http://metaphoricallytheworst.tumblr.com/) for beta reading what I've done so far. They've been a lifesaver, show them some love.

Neil Josten pressed himself into the wall, shuffling his belongings between his feet and clutching onto his watered down coffee with shaky fingers; the only consolation for the young man being that the cup was hot, and the night air around him was not. The lights above Neil flickered as he sunk to the ground, pulled out a cigarette and lit it with some effort. Balancing the stick between two figures he breathed deeply to calm his nerves; he knew that he needed to move soon. His mother would have given him a black eye and bruised ribs if she knew how long he had been in the city, surrounded by people, and cameras; she would have killed him if she knew what he had done to get enough money to eat or sleep in a place he didn’t have to break into.

\----

It had been over a year since his mother’s death, since the path she had taken them on ended in her blood gluing her lifeless body to the seat of their car, over a year since Neil picked up from where she left and ran for his life - never stopping, never slowing down, never staying in one place for too long. It had been an age since Neil could breathe easy, to be able to take a breath without feeling like he was strapped into a straight jacket, or close his eyes without fear of opening them to see the twisted smirk of sadistic thugs, or the endless blue his own eyes reflected without the muddy brown contacts he wore now.

Neil took a shaky breath as the cigarette burnt down to the filter and the coffee became significantly less warm. He sipped at the bitter liquid and the thrumming in his veins increased, the night was quickly becoming silent around him as the last workers closed their doors and the late night rabble slinked off to whatever corner of the world they occupied. A light rain began to sprinkle the sidewalk. With a sigh, Neil stubbed out the smoke and set off to find an alcove to spend the night. He hadn’t made enough money today to have both food and a bed, he would have to work the crowds again tomorrow or risk dipping into the little money he had left of what his mother had stolen off his father. This was not something he wanted to do unless absolutely necessary, he could sleep on the streets, but his hair would eventually need to be re-dyed; better to save the money for the latter than the former.

After walking a few blocks the young man ducked into the archway of a vacant store; he could easily pick the lock but he couldn’t be bothered with the possible repercussions. Better to be alert on the street where he could make a quick escape rather than risk setting off an alarm and being trapped in a store that might not have a back door or a fire escape. Keeping his belongings strapped to his back, Neil pulled his beanie down further, and flicked his hood over the top. He curled up as tight as he could in the corner of the small space. The next few hours passed like every other night; Neil dozed but his subconscious remained alert, waking to the slightest of sounds, any possible threats, any reason he might need to bolt.

\----

As the inky sky turned to soft blue Neil’s eyes snapped open at the sounds of garbage trucks working their way down the street. Keeping his hood low over his face Neil made his way to the nearest public restroom. After quickly checking the stalls he walked over to the mirror and leaned in close. He made quick work of putting in the murky brown contacts and was satisfied that the roots of his hair were still a dark brown. After scrubbing his face he left to start work for the day.

He reached the subway in less than fifteen minutes and placed himself in his usual spot. It saw a significant amount of traffic from the early morning crowd with loose change in their pockets, left over from their morning coffee and bagel. He pulled out his guitar, a shitty acoustic that he had bought years ago at a yard sale (they were easy places to find cheap clothes without the risk of surveillance or leaving a paper trail). He plucked at the strings, adjusting the tension until it was tuned; flexing his fingers and humming a little to warm up. Most of the songs he knew were ones that he had taught himself to play merely by listening and trying different combinations of chords and strumming patterns until it sounded reasonably similar, at least to him. He had taken lessons years ago, before his mother had pulled him into a life on the run, and his father wanted to skin him alive.

Neil steeled his nerves and placed his guitar case on the ground in front of him. It was a plain soft case that was a little worse for wear, but he’d learnt over the past months that he brought in more when he used that over a hat or container. He kept his hood on low and leant over close to the guitar; better to be small, to be unnoticed, let them think he was a jittery amateur - well, he was, but they didn’t need to know that.

He plucked the first few chords of a tune he knew well enough, letting the gravel of his voice soften as he continued, the callouses of his fingers sliding easily along the strings. Few people glanced his way as they hurried to work, a few more dropping smalls bits of change in his case as he continued, slowly projecting his voice more to bounce off the walls of the small space. Neil continued this way for over an hour, taking swigs from a water bottle between songs, glancing at the meagre offerings in his case. He knew he needed more.

After packing his guitar away and moving to another popular area in a park that he had scouted, Neil continued working the crowds, picking common songs that he heard buzzing out of shops or playing in the stalls of gyms he went to once a week to shower. The day moved slowly, and there was still a crisp chill in the air. All he wanted to do was find some crappy coffee and curl up on a park bench; he was tired, not just in a physical sense but further down. It was as if there was something crawling under his skin and into his veins. He was tired in his bones, and a part of him just didn’t care if the ice in the air froze him where he stood and he never had to move again, never had to run, never had to look over his shoulder. But his mother had sacrificed her life so he could live, how could he not at least try to stay alive? It was this thought alone that made Neil keep busking, he couldn’t throw his one chance to survive into the wind, even if the woman who had given him this chance would have killed him herself for being so careless now.

There was a slight crowd gathering around him now. There was a college not too far away that drew young people to the area, easy pickings for Neil, the soft hearted were the easiest to manipulate. Who wouldn’t want to help out a fellow student struggling to pay off rent? With a sly smirk he continued with another song, his voice silky and confident.

_“Do you know what’s worth fighting for/ when it’s not worth dying for/ does it take your breath away/ and you feel yourself suffocating?/ does the pain weigh out the pride?/ and you look for a place to hide?/ did someone break your heart inside?/ you're in ruins…”_

This was one of Neil’s favourite songs to perform, he connected with the lyrics in ways he couldn’t explain. When he had first heard it, it was as though the band were singing directly to him, as if someone had opened up his brain and dissected his fucked up thoughts.

_“When you're at the end of the road/ and you lost all sense of control/ and your thoughts have taken their toll/ when your mind breaks the spirit of your soul/ your faith walks on broken glass/ and the hangover doesn't pass/ nothing's ever built to last/ you're in ruins…”_

He brought his voice back down, soft and smooth to deliver the bridge.

_“Did you try to live on your own/ when you burned down the house and home?/ did you stand too close to the fire?/ like a liar looking for forgiveness from a stone…”_

Neil brought his voice up again, his strumming fierce and his body moving in time.

_“When it's time to live and let die/ and you can't get another try/ something inside this heart has died/ you're in ruins/ one, twenty-one guns/ lay down your arms/ give up the fight/ one, twenty-one guns/ throw up your arms into the sky…you and I”_

After the final strum Neil settled where he sat, collecting himself before looking at the crowd that were now politely clapping and dropping money into his case. To his surprise the people watching had perhaps doubled or even tripled since he saw it last, a few people with phones recording his performance. His stomach dropped at the sight. He lowered his head again and gave a small wave to the crowd before packing up his stuff as the people dispersed, seeing Neil was done for the day.

He set off through the park, almost jogging. He needed to put some distance between him and this place as quickly as possible, though he doubted that anyone would come looking for him. He never made eye contact with a camera and he was hidden underneath his hair and hood. His father couldn’t find him. For peace of mind Neil wove through a large group of kids who had just got out of school and slowed his pace, adding an excited jump in his step; let them think he was a teen wriggling with his freedom for the afternoon. He made it across town in under an hour, finding an empty car park to count his earnings and collect himself.

With little over $74.00 for the day Neil was shocked; he hadn’t made this much before in one day and he was a little unsure of what to do with himself. Firstly, he buried the most of the cash in different pockets throughout his duffle and guitar case, better to keep it separate in case he got held up. Keeping $15 on him he made his way through the streets to a diner, before plopping himself in a booth and ordering a burger and a milkshake. Food had never tasted so good before. After weeks of living off muesli bars, coffee, and watery soup from homeless shelters, this was heavenly.

From here the young man made his way to the nearest gym that the server at the diner had told him about, a few blocks from where he was. A day pass was only $5.95 so Neil dug out a handful of cash and handed it over to the man behind the counter; he made his way through the back and stuffed his things into a locker, reluctantly leaving his guitar leaning against the wall. Neil headed over to the treadmill and started to walk on the belt, slowly increasing the speed until he was running so fast he didn’t have to think, or worry, or calculate. All he focused on was the thump of his feet hitting the ground that reverberated through his bones and melted the ice in his veins. He ran until his legs were burning, and his knees were buckling, a hot shower that followed easing some of the tension. Carefully, Neil air dried and dressed himself. He double checked the mirror before he left to make sure his contacts were still fine and his hair was still brown. He collected his things and exited the building, off to find a safe place to sleep for the night, perhaps in a hostel if he felt like it was worth the effort.

\----

Trending Now:  
Mystery teen busker will blow your mind!  
Video emerges of a mystery teen belting out songs by Green Day and more, the boy was recorded by onlookers at…


	2. I have your hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so here's the next chapter. I'm pretty happy with how things are turning out with this fic and I've already got most of chapter three written. Updates will likely be once a week as I'm currently studying at uni and assignments are coming up soon. Let me know what you think in the comments, any feedback and ideas are much appreciated. Hope you like.
> 
> Huge thank you again to Kit for beta reading.
> 
> Song lyrics in title and chapter are from Candour by Neck Deep (slightly altered to fit the context of the story)
> 
> Also, ignore the note at the bottom of this chapter, it should be on chapter one but it wont stay there.

Andrew Minyard was going to flay the skin from Kevin’s face if he didn’t stop pacing. It had been this way for over an hour – Kevin walking up and down the length of the room while Andrew sat on the kitchen bench with a cigarette between his lips and a knife twirling between his fingers. It was odd, Andrew supposed, for Kevin to get this worked up about anything that didn’t directly correlate to him.

“Kevin. Sit,” he blandly stated to the taller boy. Kevin whipped around to face him, his dark hair dishevelled and his eyes ready for a challenge. “You’re not going to find the kid at that wall, or the other wall, and he is certainly not hiding in-between them waiting to pop up like a daisy so sit down. You’re ruining my good mood.”

“He’s what we ne-”

“We don’t need anyone. Certainly not a homeless fuck from who knows where.” Andrew dropped the butt on the bench and slid his knife into the sheath that he wore on his forearm before he exited the room in favour of a nap. He was done with the conversation and Kevin’s dumb face. He had seen the video of the boy in question earlier this morning when Kevin shoved his phone in his face and played the damn thing on repeat. It was just some kid playing in a park a few states over, Andrew would admit that he wasn’t half bad, there was definitely some talent and skill there. But, the boy looked as though he was holding death’s hand. His eyes were dark and sunken, his cheeks sharp and hollow. He was clearly living on the streets and not having a good time. Andrew did not care. It was not his problem; Kevin could waste his time calling who he liked and trying to find the kid online but he highly doubted he would find him. He was not the kind of person who was easy to find; how quickly he had dropped his head when he saw the crowd, and the urgency he moved with to collect his things gave that away clearly. After a quick glance at the clock, Andrew dry swallowed his next dose and curled up on the bed, his back against the wall as the world around him began to slow and the fog in his mind thickened.

\----  
Andrew woke to an object hitting him in the chest and someone standing in his room. He lashed out, fists flying and teeth bared in a snarl. Wymack watched from the door, his shoulder leaning on the frame. Jerk. Andrews heart was thudding in his ears, his stomach twisted in a panic that was woven into the fabric of his existence.

“One of these days you’re going to do that and I’m going to make it very painful for you. I will be left with no choice but to leave your body in a watery grave.”

“What else is new? Give it back.” The man held out his hand expectantly.

Andrew observed the wallet that had woken him, he picked it up, palmed a twenty and threw it back.

“For my good behaviour.” A smile curled on his face, it felt unnatural, like someone was tugging the corner of his mouth with string. “Now Davey Jones what brings you here? You heard from Kevin I suppose but what could you do about that situation hmm?”

Wymack didn’t even blink. “We’re going on a road trip.”

Andrew stared at the man for a long moment before he leant his back against the wall flexing his wrists with a manic smile plastered on his face. “That’s funny. As far as I was aware, we’re between tours. I don’t recall any travel plans. I suppose you will have to go without me.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his eyes the man sighed and turned to leave. “Sort your problems out with Kevin, we leave in an hour.”

Andrew should have flayed the skin from Kevin’s face.

\----

Just over an hour later and they were on the road. Wymack had insisted that they fly as the flight was only an hour and a half and driving would have taken them the better half of a day. Andrew was less than pleased by this decision.

His jaw was set as Wymack pulled into the parking lot of the airport; he thumbed the ceramic knives that were now hidden in his sheaths; they weren’t as reliable as his usual selection but they could still gut a man if the situation called for it. He stepped out of the car and lit a cigarette as they walked towards the building. He glanced around the space, observing the exits and the people who looked in their direction. He flicked the smoke in the gutter and followed the older man through the door, Kevin close on his heels.

The three men made it through security without a hitch. Andrew had taken to twirling a pen between his fingers as they waited to board, sporadically scanning the room. Wymack had retreated to the nearest outlet to charge his phone while he seemingly had a heated discussion with someone, probably Abby. Kevin had sunk down in his seat, his head thrown back and his long legs extended as his fingers tapped on his thighs to whatever crap he was listening to. With a scowl Andrew looked away from the raven haired man, opting to count the minutes until their plane boarded.

\----

To Andrew’s relief their plane did not spontaneously combust, experience engine failure, drop out of the sky, or have any number of possible disasters occur. The trip was uneventful to say the least, save for Kevin depleting the airline’s supply of vodka. They walked out of the terminal and got a cab to their hotel which, thankfully, wasn’t half bad. Wymack had opted to get a single suite for himself, and a twin suit for Andrew and Kevin; luckily they were in the main part of the city and could walk to most places with ease. After dropping their backpacks in their rooms and eating a quick lunch at a small café a block away from their hotel the three set off into the city.

They only had one night in town but their plane back didn’t leave until 9:30 the next evening. They essentially had a day and a half to find this kid; Kevin and Wymack plotted their paths through the city, carefully planning to hit the most popular areas in their search for the boy. Andrew let them walk ahead, careful to keep their backs in sight as he scanned their surroundings. Once. Twice. There was nothing that he noted as alarming or out of the ordinary, there was a feeling of normal city commotion and chaos.

The day passed slowly. Unsurprisingly, they had made no progress on finding the mystery boy; he wasn’t in the highly populated areas where buskers thrived, he wasn’t in any of the youth shelters they had gone into, and none of the homeless people that were willing to speak to them knew who he was, or where he was. Interesting. Kevin’s mood had slowly begun to deteriorate as the time passed. Andrew supposed that a having a charity case to focus on would be good for Kevin, maybe the boy would keep him distracted from idea of going back to The Nest, or the inevitability that they would come for him. He didn’t say this of course.

Andrew’s skin had begun to itch, his head was throbbing, and his mouth was dry; this time he didn’t bother checking the time before he popped his next dose, he didn’t want to crash in unfamiliar territory. He kicked a pebble along the street, uninterested in Wymack tapping away on his phone and sighing in ten second intervals, and Kevin who had resorted to sulking. This was ridiculous.

“Not to be a Negative Nancy, Princess-” Kevin scowled at the title but Andrew continued “-but it’s getting late and Peter Parker doesn’t want to be found.” He drawled. Kevin was so far up his own arse he didn’t even deign to reply.

“Andrew, play nice,” Wymack growled, still looking at his phone.

He glared at the older man, tossing up between staying silent purely out of spite or aiding them in their search to end this shit show as soon as possible. “Should your highness and your right hand man want a second opinion on the matter” he spat, “you’re looking in the wrong places. You need to look where other people aren’t.”

His two companions looked at him expectantly, waiting for him continue but he said all that he needed to. Think, idiots. Put the pieces together. Kevin had taken to glaring at the ground and Wymack continued to search Andrew’s face as if looking for the answers there. His face was as apathetic as the rest of him, there was nothing to see or find there. Wymack looked away.

\----

They walked back in the direction of their hotel, stopping at a diner for food - Andrew chose a sickly sweet cake that was 90% chocolate, while the other two opted for steak. He broke his cake into bite sized pieces and picked at it until he was done before he left the booth and went outside to smoke. He sat on the gutter with with head between his thighs flicking a knife in his spare hand; he heard it then, a small sound from the parking lot. A strum. A curse. A sigh. Andrew glared into the night. Fucking, of course this would happen! He sheathed his knife, pulled out his phone and called Kevin without putting it to his ear. It wasn’t long before the two men rushed out of the diner; Andrew cut off their concern with a blank stare as he pointed to his ear and then the corner.

 _“…I have your - hands/ but I - have my – father’s eyes…”_ There was the sound of a soft voice chunking a song and experimentally fingering some chords. “Fuck,” the person groans, before starting again _“…I have your hands/ but I have my – father’s eyes. Your –tact and poise…”_

Kevin and Wymack were staring at each other in a silent challenge; the younger man broke first. Wymack took a deep breath and rubbed the bridge between his eyes before he turned the corner. Andrew flicked a glance at his watch before rolling his shoulders and gently shoving Kevin out of his way with two fingers, ignoring the confused look the taller man shot him.

He glanced at his watch again, “5…4…3…2…1”

If Andrew wasn’t ready for it, the boy would have flattened him. As it were, however, he observed the person that he had now pinned to the wall thanks to a well-timed grab of the person’s arm and using the momentum of their sprint to slam them into the side of the building. Not boy, Andrew realised now, but man; perhaps the same age as him. The stranger struggled against his grip, trying to pry free the arm twisted behind his back and shake free his shoulders from the arm that pressed him into the concrete of the building.

Andrew heard the tell-tale sigh of Wymack to his right. “Andrew what happened to playing nice?”

Andrew gritted his teeth. “Well I didn’t break him; you need to be specific about these things.” Wymack was lucky he decided on restraint rather than gutting him as he ran past.

“Fuck you-” the young man growled. Andrew pressed him harder into the wall, cutting off the insult. The breathing of the man beneath him had become erratic and his eyes darted furiously for a way out.

“Now, now. Don’t be rude little pig. Davy Jones here just wants to talk, right?” he hissed into the man’s ear.

“As I was saying before you decided to do a remarkable impersonation of Usain Bolt…” The older man drawled, “my name is David Wymack, I’m from Palmetto Records and I work with The Foxes as their manager. You have recently come to our attention from a video that was posted…” the boy beneath him went still “…and after much deliberation the band, and the record label are willing to trial you as a new member.”

Andrew waited five seconds before releasing the man and taking a step back to fall into line, sliding a careful gaze over the man that stood before him. As he expected, he didn’t try to run again though he remained on high alert. He rolled his shoulders and rubbed at his wrist that now sported a red ring from Andrew’s grip.

The boy looked down in some attempt at looking meek, his hair licked out from his beanie, his clothes were loose on his body and riddled with holes and frayed edges, his eyes were bloodshot and dark but they were alert, assessing, thinking. Interesting.

It was a moment more before he said in a small voice, “Apologies for the misunderstanding. Thank you for the offer but I cannot accept. My life is here- ”

“And what life is that?” Kevin had emerged from shadows where Andrew had placed him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, here's the next chapter. Really happy with this one, let me know what you think in the comments. Next chapter will be up on the 21st. 
> 
> Lyrics are Candour by Neck Deep again.

Neil had been keeping a low profile for a few days now; luckily he had enough money to tide him over for the time being. He had seriously considered leaving the city after he had gathered such a crowd and drawn so much attention to himself. His mother would have packed them up the second it had happened, but then again, if his mother was here he wouldn’t have been busking in the first place. It had always been about survival with her. Always survival and never living. Neil felt his stomach drop with guilt thinking about everything that she had done to keep him alive, how much she had sacrificed, and how much he had thrown away through his actions. But how else was he supposed to survive? He had nowhere to go, nowhere to settle. He had to no other choice, did he?

 

He walked slowly down the street towards a diner he’d found a few nights ago that had a car park attached. The far side had a small roof and large pillars to offer shelter to a row of cars from the elements. Neil quickly surveyed the area. It would do for the night he supposed. He wove between the cars, good obstacles if he needed to bolt, and mentally planned his escape route. Finally, he pressed himself into a corner of the retaining wall and a pillar and took out his guitar to practice.

 

Neil cleared his throat and began to finger pick some notes, letting his body do the work, trying not overthink the process. He continued this way until he found a combination he liked. He did it over and over, committing it to memory until he could play the riff without stuffing up. When he was satisfied, he switched to trying some chords and lyrics that had been on his mind recently. He formed a G and attempted a strumming pattern that matched the riff.

 

  _“…I have - your – hands- but I - have my-” he changed to a C, “-father’s eyes_ …” He frowned a little, unhappy with something he couldn’t quite place. “Okay, fuck. Try again Neil. You got this.”

 

He shuffled a little and gripped the neck of the guitar again. “ _I have your - hands/ but I - have my – father’s eyes_ …Fuck” Neil groaned as his index finger slipped off the string, he took a breath and started again. _“…I have your hands/ but I have my – father’s eyes. Your –tact and poise-”_

Neil stilled as the air around him shifted, the senses that his mother had beaten into him picking up a change. Someone was here. He scanned his surroundings. Once. Twice. There was nothing that he could see. Neil cursed himself for his recklessness, the car park was too dark. _Hindsight is what gets you killed Abram. Always be sure._ His mother’s teachings rang in his ears. The man put down his guitar as quietly as possible, sliding it back into the case before he stood up and swung his duffle over his shoulder.  


“Excuse me.” A gruff voice came from his right and a man stepped out from behind a car and into the Neil’s sight. He was tall and strongly built, trying his best to look unthreatening. Neil attempted to keep a level head, to not let the panic set in just yet. Assess the threat then act. But who knew if there were others here waiting in the shadows? “My nam-”

 

Neil didn’t let the man finish; he bolted. He left his guitar where it was, not wanting to be slowed down. He followed the escape route that he planned earlier and sprinted to the corner of the building taking the sharp turn as quietly as he could. He was unsure of how it happened but one moment he was running for his life and the next he was pressed into the wall. He furiously struggled against the iron grip, trying to pull free his arm that was now twisted behind his back. His shoulders were pinned just as firmly, his cheek grazed the concrete of the building and his free arm trapped between his chest and the wall.

 

Neil quickly calculated his odds. So far there were only two assailants: the man from the car park and the one who had him restrained. If there was a third or fourth they hadn’t made themselves known. If he could shake off the one that held him now he could sprint and attempt to outrun them. He was fast and it had kept him alive more than once before. _Run Abram. They can’t kill a man that they can’t catch._

 

“Andrew what happened to playing nice?” A voice sounded off to his right, probably the man from the car park. If it was one of his father’s men, it wasn’t one that he recognised; he supposed he would soon find out.

 

The person who held him, Andrew, shifted ever so slightly. “Well I didn’t break him; you need to be specific about these things,” he stated bluntly with no trace of emotion.

 

“Fuck you-” Neil spat but his voice was swiftly cut off as the weight on his chest increased, briefly squeezing the air from his lungs. He tried to suck in as much air as possible, tried desperately to look for a way out. There was nothing.

 

“Now, now. Don’t be rude little pig,” a voice hissed in his ear, “Davy Jones here just wants to talk, right?”

 

Neil’s mind was immediately reeling. Davy Jones. He didn’t recognise the name. There was no-one in his father’s crew who went by that on the streets. Uncle Stuart had kept his mother updated with the ring and no-one could be in a position like this with less than a year as an underling. Lola, one of his father’s most trusted members, had trained for three years before she was sent on any mission to even assist with a kidnap or to dispose of a loose end.  

 

“As I was saying, before you decided to do a remarkable impersonation of Usain Bolt, my name is David Wymack, I’m from Palmetto Records and I work with The Foxes as their manager. You have recently come to our attention from a video that was posted…” Neil went still trying to process what he was saying. “…and after much deliberation the band, and the record label are willing to trial you as a new member.”

 

Neil struggled to absorb this information. They weren’t sent by his father’s ring. They weren’t trying to kill him, allegedly; this claim supported by the weight that had quickly removed itself from his back. If they wanted him dead or held captive they wouldn’t have let him go, they would know what he’s capable of, know that if given the chance he could practically turn to smoke and slip between their fingers. They weren’t here because of his past then, he loosed a breath at the relief.

 

He turned to face the men, his eyes falling first on Andrew who stared back with a sharp gaze. The young man was slightly shorter then he was, his blond hair messy and poking out from beneath his hood. He was dressed head to toe in black and looked reasonably unthreatening save for his eyes which were lit up with mischief and the smile that was plastered on his face. The sight was unnerving. The older man, David, Neil recalled, looked as though he was perpetually pissed off. He was tall, and gruff, hopefully this also meant that he was slow should he have to make another run for it.

 

Neil rolled his shoulders and gently rubbed the wrist that had been twisted harshly behind his back. He dropped his eyes to the ground, taking a quick glance at their feet. Neither of the men were holding themselves in a way that suggested they were going to attack, both stances were casual, or perhaps even defensive. Good.

 

He swallowed before finding his voice.  “Apologies for the misunderstanding. Thank you for the offer but I cannot accept. My life is here -”

 

“And what life is that?” A third voice came from an alcove cast in shadow and another man stepped into the street light. This person, Neil recognised. He doubted he would ever forget Kevin Day’s face.

 

Neil swallowed his curse and attempted to make his posture as natural as possible. He searched Kevin’s face, looking for any hint of recognition in his green eyes that were ablaze and sparking with a challenge. Thankfully, there was nothing in his face or posture that suggested he recognised Neil, or remembered the boy that he had been an age ago. Neil was likely to have only been a speck on his radar back then anyway.

 

A part of him knows that he should bite his tongue, he needs to get out of this situation as soon as possible but with the adrenaline pumping through his body Neil couldn’t help himself.

 

“What’s it to you?” Neil spat, the edge of his voice laced with venom.

 

“Careful,” Andrew chided, “surely you know what they do to stray dogs that bite?” The smile on his face didn’t even quiver.

 

Neil scowled, before finding his voice again. “Regardless, I won’t sign with you. I don’t deserve a place in your band. I’m hardly qualified, and certainly not good enough. The Foxes would be better off with someone else.” The statement was truthful. He knew of the band, they had gained popularity in recent years after they signed with Palmetto and with the addition of Kevin as a mentor and tech. The record company itself was an interesting project started to give musicians with troubled backgrounds a second chance, signing artists and bands from all walks of life and genres. Many called it a publicity stunt, but regardless, if there was revenue generated, who could complain? Neil wasn’t talented enough to belong in a place like that, not to mention that to go with them was to stop running. He didn’t know how to do that.

 

“Your potential is being wast-” Kevin rushed forward a step and Neil retreated two, shifting onto the balls of his feet.

 

“Kevin,” Wymack growled. “Take a walk. I’ll deal with this.” The younger man whipped his head around and flashed an indignant look at the man for suggesting such a thing before he turned back to Neil and paused. He scrunched his face in defeat and stormed off down the street without another word. The older man sighed, he seemed to do that a lot Neil noted. “Andrew?” He almost seemed to ask, the blond had yet to move. His eyes still roamed over Neil as if trying to find something there. Keep looking asshole. There were no answers to be found.

 

“On it,” The man stated a moment later, as if coming to the same conclusion. He raised his hand to his head in a mock salute and followed Kevin down the street.

 

Wymack rubbed the space between his eyes, another habit, Neil suspected. “Right. You’re going to let me talk, and then you are going to talk. In that order. To begin, I don’t give a shit if you don’t think you are good enough for this band, the fact that we’re here and asking you should tell you that you are. There are plenty of people who we could have asked, but you’re the only one we have approached and the only one Kevin has taken even a speck of interest in. He says that you have everything the band needs and is working towards, you have raw talent and I am in agreeance with him. Do not take that lightly,” Wymack stated. Neil considered this, while he was overwhelmed by the man’s words and didn’t quite know how to process the praise, it was clear that Kevin had no idea who he was or he would have never thought such things. The older man continued, “Now, first question, what’s your name? Second question, how old are you? Third question, where are your parents? Fourth question, are they going to be an issue?”

 

He contemplated the risks and benefits of answering the questions, of disclosing that information. He glanced at Wymack briefly before looking down at his feet, carefully calculating the distance between him and the man, making sure he was still out of range.

 

“Neil Josten. 19. Don’t know. No, they don’t even know I’m still alive,” he quietly answered, easily reciting the half-truths of who he was in this moment. Neil Josten. 19. On the street because his parents were too caught up in their out of town jobs. He hadn’t seen or heard from them in years. He had all the fake papers to support his story: passport, social security number, everything that made him a legitimate person. They were given to him by Uncle Stuart as mourning gift when he told him of his mother’s death. It was all the help he had received from the man other than the advice to _stay alive_.

 

“Okay,” the man stated, handing over a pile of papers as he did so. “Read through this, it’s a temporary contract to work with The Foxes for three months. You’ll be working in the studio, practising with the band, perhaps playing some local shows. On pages one through four you will find all this explained further, pages five and six are what the label will provide you with for the time you’re with us. If all goes to plan you will be rolled onto the same contract as the rest of the band at the end of the three months. Sign your name at the bottom and it will be ready to go.”

 

Neil was shocked. He had never considered the possibility of stopping, he hadn’t been able to slow down since the night his mother crept into his room and quietly woke him, dragging him outside to a car that was stashed with fake IDs and blood money. Since her death Neil felt as though he was adrift and lost; he couldn’t do what she did, not on his own. He felt the phantom punch that would have been delivered to his gut if his mother was here for even thinking about signing. But she wasn’t. She was dead; and eventually Neil would be too, regardless of what path he chose. He loved music, he loved the pain in his fingers from pressing down on the strings and losing himself in lyrics. He loved creating. There had been too much destruction in his life, he wanted to make, and sleep, and belong. He wanted to stop for a second and catch his breath.

 

“Where exactly are The Foxes based? Should I choose to sign I would need some time to work out accommodation and travel.”

 

Wymack frowned at the response. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but we’re not taking no for an answer, Neil. We’re based in South Carolina just over an hour out of Columbia, there is residency available at the studio for all our artists. As for travel I can arrange a flight for you tomorrow evening. There may not be a room ready by that stage but I have a couch in my apartment that you can use in the meantime.” The man threw a pen in his direction. “Sign it. I could arrange a hotel room tonight-”

 

“Why?” Neil cut off as he picked up the pen. “Why do any of this? Surely the record company could invest their money in better things, and people.”

 

“Where would any of us be if no-one gave us a second chance? That’s what this company is about, giving people a chance when the rest of the world has turned their back and decided they’re not worth the effort.”

 

This time it was Neil who frowned at the response. Once again, he didn’t understand the man’s words. He looked down the path that Kevin had walked down. After all these years somehow they’re both here, both alive against all the odds. If he signed this contract he could do something with his life other than run, he would be given a second chance at life if only for a few months. If Kevin began to question his past or even hint at recognising him, he would disappear.

 

“I’ll need a few days to deal with things here before leaving.”

 

“Okay I can arrange a flight for Monday. That gives you tomorrow and Sunday to deal with what you need. I’ll have someone pick you up from the airport. I trust you will be there or I will be thoroughly pissed off. “

 

“Noted.” With a trembling hand, Neil signed the paper and handed the file back. He loosed a breath. _Sorry mum._  


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends, here's the next chapter. Chapter 5 will likely be up on the 28th. Things will start to pick up a bit and get into more music in the next chapter, really excited to share it. 
> 
> Feedback is always welcome, let me know what you think in the comments. Also feel free to submit any songs that you think fits this fic or Andreil in general. 
> 
> Thanks to Kit for beta reading.

Andrew was somewhat impressed when Wymack had returned with the contract signed. He honestly thought that Roadrunner would have left in a puff of dust. Though that had yet to be seen, Andrew supposed. While Wymack had organised a flight for Neil Monday morning, whether he walked through the gates would be test in itself. Hopefully he was not foolish enough to skip town. Andrew did not want to put up with Kevin’s shit if he did.

 

All things considered, he didn’t trust the man, not yet. Even thinking about him made his skin itch with discomfort. There was something that didn’t add up. Andrew had expected him to run when Wymack had approached him. It was either that or offer his hourly prices. However, the force at which he attempted to escape, the sheer desperation of it, was excessive for just a street kid. His suspicion had further spiked at how still the man had become at Kevin’s approach, how he stared him down, more than someone assessing their exit strategy. He was going to pick apart the man with a fine-tooth comb until he learnt every dirty detail. Until then, Kevin was not going near him and fuck him if he had a problem with it. A project would useful and keep his attention, but not until Neil had been tested and proven. Then and only then.

  
The man sat on the window sill with a cigarette between his lips. He rolled his next dose around in his palm while he weighed his options. He could wait, he decided. He could play the long game; he’d done it before. If Neil became a threat, he would take him out before anyone could miss him. Satisfied, he swallowed the pills and made his way to the kitchen to dig out the icecream.

 

****

 

Neil hated airports. They always made his skin crawl and his stomach twist. This was only the second time he had been in one without his mother’s guidance – on his own he opted to hitch hike or take the train to where he needed to go. Too many things could go wrong in places like this; there was too much security and too few exits. _Don’t look around so much Abram, you’ll look suspicious. You’re too old to pass as curious._

 

He made it through the gates without any issues. A phantom weight lifted from his shoulders, though he knew that there was still more to deal with before the day was through. After picking his guitar up from the luggage belt he passed through the arrivals gate and scanned the area. His eyes fell on an exceptionally small blond who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. It was one of the twins. The bored look on the man’s face that almost seemed to be sleepy, lacked of Andrew’s mania; he assumed it was Aaron who was to be his chaperone then.

 

Neil had done his research in the few days before his flight, utilizing the public computers and Wi-Fi at a local library. He learned the details of the band: who was in it, what role they played, where the recording studio was, who was involved with the label. He was going into unfamiliar territory so he needed to be prepared, it was the least he could do while he threw the rest of his mother’s survival techniques out the window. In his research he found that Aaron was dubbed the ‘normal’ twin, the lighter side of Andrew’s darkness.

 

“Neil,” was all the man said before pushing off the wall and turning on his heel and walking through the sliding doors. Neil followed the man closely, observing the way he moved as he walked, the cigarette packet in his back pocket, the keys that were being swung between careless fingers.

 

Aaron opened the trunk of a sleek black car and moved around to the driver’s side, the engine revving to life a second later. Neil swung his guitar case inside followed by his duffel. He double checked the zippers were secure before he got into the passenger seat. He didn’t know much about cars except how to look for ones that had alarms and how to hotwire the ones that didn’t. Aaron’s car felt expensive and it definitely had an alarm. As soon as the door was closed the blond took off through the short term garage, carelessly merging into traffic as he tore down the highway.

 

“So, Neil Josten. Wymack must really know what to say if he got you to sign _and_ show up today.”

 

“Well he made it very difficult to say no, to say the least,” Neil muttered through clenched teeth.

 

“Interesting,” Aaron mused. “Apparently you were fairly adamant that you wouldn’t sign, and you were fast on your feet to run away from said proposal, I hear. What changed?”

 

“Perhaps you’ll forgive me for not trusting people who approach me in the dead of night and slam me into walls. I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Neil spat.

 

“I suppose you don’t,” he conceded, “but you will be wise to note that I’m not the forgiving kind. Though I suppose it wasn’t me that you offended; Kevin on the other hand is still nursing a bruised ego.”

 

Neil let silence settle between them, content with looking out the window and not talking about Kevin. He felt the familiar bone crushing tiredness threaten to wash over him, he was so tired. Tired of running, of being alert, of watching and observing. But most of all he was tired of never stopping, constantly hiding and not ever being able to sleep easy. His existence was exhausting, and when it wasn’t exhausting it was painful. His mind flashed back to gravel burn that wrapped down his torso, the bullet wound on his shoulder, the slashes that riddled his body, and the bruises his mother had coloured him with for being too slow, too careless, too loud. He just wanted to stop. Aaron broke the silence and snapped Neil back to the present, his skin crawling.

 

“You said that you weren’t good enough, do you really think that three months will change anything?”

 

He felt the man’s eyes slide off the road and towards him. The thought made the hair on Neil’s arms stand on end; he didn’t make it through all that shit to die in a car accident. He considered the question.

 

He kept looking out his window. “No,” was all he responded before the car fell silent and stayed that way.

 

\----

 

The hour and a half drive ended up taking just under an hour; Aaron’s driving shaving off the extra time. They pulled into a parking lot. Aaron killed the engine before he swiftly stepped out of the car and pulled a cigarette out of his back pocket. Neil was tempted to do the same, needing the acrid smoke to take the edge off his nerves but he was interrupted by a booming:

 

“Oh my word! That video did not do you justice, Kevin why didn’t you tell me how pretty he was?”

 

Neil turned to see three people making their way across the parking lot, Kevin, Andrew, and who he could only assume was Nicholas. The man was tall and dark with rich brown eyes, jet black hair, and a smile plastered on his face that exposed dimples in his cheeks and small wrinkles around his eyes. The smile was warm, and kind. He extended a hand to Neil at his approach.

 

“Hi, I’m Nicky. Glad to see you got here in one piece.”

 

“Neil,” he responded as he grasped the man’s hand.

 

“Oh, I know honey. Come with me, I’ll show you the apartment and we can drop off your stuff before we go get a bite to eat. Wymack is running errands so you’re stuck with us. Is that all you have?”

 

Nicky looked quizzically at the small duffel and ratty guitar case that Neil had retrieved from the trunk. He tensed at the words. He thought about the guitar and how his mother would have beaten him black and blue for keeping it. They could never afford to have things, to own possessions that were not necessary to their survival. It was one of the first rules of hers that he had broken in the first few months after her death. It had taken him almost a week to actually pick the instrument up and play around with it. It had taken him almost a month to go into a music store to replace the strings. He had spent months practising and relearning the skills he had as a child, before he began to busk to earn money to eat and sleep, or buy hair dye and transportation. He discovered that busking was easier and less risky than pick pocketing. Before, he and his mother could work as a team: one doing the distracting and the other slipping into the target’s pockets or bags. Alone, there was more of a risk. He couldn’t afford to be caught, if that happened there was no-one who could come to his rescue.

 

“Well, it’s not like I had the opportunity to be materialistic,” he said with a frown.

 

Nicky looked mortified as he realised what he said. “Oh, um right. Sorry,” he spluttered as he began to walk through the lot.

 

Neil followed the man up two flights of stairs to an apartment. Nicky dug out a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the door before passing the keys to Neil.

 

“These are for you, they’re the spare set. This is Wymack’s place. It’s pretty nice for the grumpy old man but with all he does I suppose he deserves it,” Nicky said as he opened the door and made his way further into the room.

 

Neil stopped short of the threshold of the door. A wave of icy cold realisation washed over him. This was it. He was here. It wasn’t just a dream, or some unrealistic fantasy. He was here, in a new town, about to start living a life that had forever been out of his grasp, even if it didn’t last.

 

“Neil?”

 

He snapped back to reality, realising be probably looked like an idiot standing in the doorway. He walked in after Nicky, who gave him a curious once over. Neil quickly glanced around the room noting the windows and doorways, mapping out where useful items and possible exits were.

 

“Sorry,” Neil offered weakly. “Got lost in thought.”

 

“Sure. I get it. It’s a big change.” The man bounced awkwardly on the balls of his feet as silence fell before he continued, “Listen, I’m sorry if Andrew’s a bit intense. He doesn’t trust all that easy and he’s a tad…temperamental.”

 

That was an understatement. Neil had attempted to thoroughly look into the blond’s history before coming here, along with the other Foxes, reading what was publicly available on the internet. There wasn’t much on Andrew, he seemed to stay out of the spotlight of the band letting the others do interviews and press statements. He had found an article that outlined a vicious attack on Nicky that had resulted in the four assailants almost dying at the hands of Andrew. This then lead to the man being required to take mood altering drugs to stabilize his violence as the court deemed the defence out of proportion to the original crime. Neil did not think the drugs were working, his mind flashing back to being firmly pressed against the wall.

 

“He’s certainly…interesting.” Neil said carefully.

 

Nicky huffed a laugh, “That’s an understatement, but he’s family so what can you do?”

 

He had read that Nicky and the twins were cousins, though they didn’t look remotely similar. Where the twins were cold and sharp edges, Nicky was warm and soft. The twins both sported straight white blonde hair and pale skin, whereas Nicky’s was jet black and curly, his skin two shades too dark to be considered tanned.

 

Neil didn’t know what to say so he shifted on his feet and walked to the window. A fall from this height might not be fatal but it would definitely hurt, this would have to be a last resort exit. He looked back to Nicky who was tapping away on his phone before looking up.

 

“Okay, if you want to leave your stuff here, we’ll go get lunch.”

 

Neil hesitated, calculating the risks of leaving his things unattended. He didn’t have much choice. He placed his duffel on the couch and gently placed the guitar on top, before following Nicky back down to the others.

 

They walked back to the men in the parking lot. Kevin had taken to sprawling himself over the hood of the car, his feet grazing the ground and his arms spread. Andrew was sitting on the ground with a wicked smile on his face, his back pressed against the front tire. Aaron was standing next to him looking perpetually bored as he tapped on his phone.

 

Upon their approach Kevin sat up, “Who’s driving? I’m quite happy to-” he asked.

 

“The day I let you drive my car is the day that I am dead Kevin,” Andrew said looking up at the man and throwing the keys to Nicky.

 

“Oh come on, I’m a good-” He was cut off by a raised eyebrow, clearly understanding the gesture.

 

They piled into the car, Kevin taking the passenger seat while Neil was stuck in the middle seat between Aaron and Andrew. He was less than pleased by this development, he hated that there was someone between him and the exit. Luckily the drive only took five minutes and Nicky easily parallel parked front of a small Italian restaurant. The men removed themselves from the car and walked towards the door. Neil kept to the back of the group, watching the others walk ahead. He noticed the familiarity in their steps, clearly this was a usual hang out. Kevin had paused at the door to talk to a waiter while the others moved through the room seemingly heading to their usual table.

 

Neil catalogued the way they moved: Nicky walked with a bounce in his step that Neil could only relate to a child who had eaten a pint of ice cream. Aaron was more concerned with glancing at his phone than walking with care, he strayed off his path a few times bumping shoulders with Nicky. He was obviously involved with someone. Andrew’s stride was familiar, Neil realised with a shock. He glanced at the cigarette packet in his back pocket, and the keys he swung between careless fingers. Neil almost kicked himself for being so stupid. It was Andrew who had picked him up today, not Aaron. But why? And why hadn’t Andrew corrected him? Though Neil supposed he never used the man’s name so there was nothing to correct. All the same, the deception didn’t sit well with him. Both twins were dressed identically in long black hoodies and jeans so they could have easily switch mannerisms from when he put his things away to when he returned. What made him more uncomfortable when he realised that Andrew was sober right now, part of his parole was to be constantly medicated. If he was caught off his medication, he would be sent to jail so why would he risk it?

 

Neil sat next to Nicky, the waiter had pushed a table onto their regular place to make room for the extra person. She proceeded to bring out baskets of bread and bottles of water. He glanced at the menu, the food was fancier than anything he had eaten for months, perhaps years. An older woman waddled out to the table, her arms outstretched and a warm smile across her face. Kevin smiled back and stood to embrace the woman, making small pleasantries before sitting back down as the woman went to the kitchen. Neil glanced around the table, Aaron had taken to rapping on the table with his knuckles, Nicky and Kevin were chatting about something irrelevant, and Andrew was cleaning his nails with the tip of a knife that he got from who knows where, his glazed over eyes stuck on Neil. The man looked pale, and tired. He must have dosed up then, Neil noted as he looked away.

 

Lunch was over fairly quickly, the conversation restricted to small talk between the men about certain bands or recent songs. Nicky tried to include Neil as much as possible and poked about his life but Neil deflected his questions. They made their way back to the apartment. As they pulled into the small car park they found a grumpy looking Wymack glaring at them.

 

“Hello Neil glad to see you didn’t get lost on your way here,” the man said in his direction before turning to the other four. “Right you lot, I have merch that needs to be moved from the trunk of my car to the study. Go.”

 

Three of the four groaned and started towards what Neil assumed was Wymack’s car. Andrew however, lent against his car and pulled out a cigarette. Neil went over and leaned next to him, a respectable distance away before pulling a cigarette out of his own pocket. The small blond didn’t even blink at the company. He took a drag to make the smoke catch and rested it between two fingers.

 

“So does your manager know that you take day trips unmedicated? I feel like that’s something he should know.” Neil asked without looking Andrew.

 

The man huffed a laugh and turned to look at Neil, a smile twitching on his lips. “Oh, maybe you will be interesting indeed. When did you figure that one out Roadrunner?”

 

“When I saw you and Aaron walking. I don’t appreciate the deception by the way.”

 

“I don’t particularly care. Besides, you never asked if I was Aaron or if I was me, so I never really lied.”

 

“Semantics. Lying by omission is the easiest way to lie.”

 

“Perhaps you would know, Roadrunner.” Neil’s blood turned to ice. He forced himself to stay calm. Andrew was just testing the waters, trying to get a rise out of him.

 

“Perhaps I would,” Neil said in a small voice. He meant the words to snap out, to lash, to antagonise, but his voice failed him.

 

Andrew gave the man a once over, Neil felt the drag of his eyes over his body as if he could see through to his bones, see what made him who he was. When he turned to meet his gaze Andrew’s eyes were boring into his own. He quickly looked away.

 

“I’ll figure you out,” was all the man said before he flicked his cigarette to the ground and started to walk off.

 

“I’m not a problem for you to solve Andrew.” Neil said to the retreating man. “Some skeletons should remain in the closet. But by all means.” The man was too far away to hear the words. He stubbed out his smoke and put the rest in his pocket for later before walking up to Wymack’s apartment.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, this update that features angsty Andrew, and my beautiful children and their instruments. Song in this chapter is We Still Believe by Stick To Your Guns, they have an acoustic version which is the one referenced in this chapter. If there are any music facts wrong I apologise, I have very limited knowledge on the subject but have been trying my best to research. 
> 
> Next chapter may not be out until the 10th, I have photoshoots to do for my assignments all this week that are due very soon. I'll do my best to get it up earlier though. 
> 
> Huge shoutout to Kit for Beta reading, this fic would be arse without their help and support let me tell you.

Neil was going to be a problem. In more ways than one. From the moment he walked through the gates at the airport with his floppy brown hair and darting eyes, Andrew knew. He tried to get a feel for the man during the car ride but all he got was defensive bullshit and self-pity. He would have to take other measures it would seem.

 

He leaned his back against the tire of his car, and closed his eyes. Skipping his dose earlier in the day had made him on edge, he had come too close to crashing completely and it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. His skin felt flushed, his mouth was dry, and his head throbbed. Thankfully it hadn’t got bad enough that he had to puke his guts up, he opted to dose up instead. He’d have to be around Wymack and Abby this evening so he would have to anyway.

 

He had wanted to witness how Neil would act when he first got here while he was sober, the drugs made everything a little hazy, a little not real. All he picked up was the man’s uncanny ability to look out of place and like he was going to float away in the breeze. The man was far too thin and his eyes were dull, but there was a sharpness behind them, always assessing and scanning, particularly in regards to Kevin. Kevin himself had only waited as long as it took for Nicky to escort Neil up the stairs before he began to pester Andrew about needing to get into the studio with the newcomer as soon as possible to get him up to speed.

 

“If we’re going to move forward as a band we need to start working with him or it will be all for no-”

 

His head hurt too much for this shit right now. “I don’t trust him Kevin. Until I do, you are not going near him. We have a deal and this falls under it. Don’t make my life more difficult than it needs to be or I’ll decide you’re not worth the effort,” Andrew spat at the man with narrowed eyes. Fucking Junkie. Too focused on the the one thing to consider the big picture. The Nest would only stay away for so long, Kevin would not stand a chance alone if they decided to come for him. Andrew left these words unspoken. Who knew where Neil’s loyalties lay, he was a street kid after all and they were very easy to pay off.

 

The taller man sighed and threw himself on the hood of the car, stretching out his limbs and closing his eyes. Sulk all you like shit head. It was then that Nicky had texted him questioning what the hell he’d said to the man during the car ride here, apparently he froze up in the doorway and looked as though he’d seen a ghost, as if he was threatened and wanted to run for his life. Nicky of course accused him of doing the threatening. Andrew set his jaw.

 

\----

 

It wasn’t long before the other two joined them again. He threw his keys to Nicky who drove them to a small restaurant that they often frequented. Kevin greeted the waiter at front of house, and later the owner who made an effort to come greet them most days the four, or now five, of them came it. Unfortunately, there were not any sweet things on the menu so Andrew got a small pizza, hoping it would settle his queasy stomach. He broke it into pieces and slowly picked his way through the meal as the other men at the table carried the conversation. Somehow Neil avoided most of the conversations and questions that were thrown his way by Nicky who was trying desperately to find out more about him.

 

“Who’s your favourite band?”

 

“I don’t have one.”

 

“Favourite song?”

 

“Don’t know the name of any.”

 

“Dream guitar?”

 

“Wouldn’t know one from another.”

 

“Celebrity crush?”

 

“Nicky do I look like a person to have a celebrity crush?”

 

“Come on Neil, give me something man.”

 

He was met by silence. It wasn’t long after that that Nicky picked up that the man wasn’t interested in small talk and directed his attention to softer targets.

 

\----

 

They made their way back to Wymack’s apartment after they received a text that he was heading there and reaffirmed that if Andrew had already broken Neil he would not be impressed. A small part of him was perhaps glad the man held Andrew in such high esteem.

 

After Nicky parked the car back in the parking lot the others followed Wymack to move shit from some place to somewhere else. Andrew didn’t care enough to listen to the details, choosing to instead take out a smoke. Neil too hung back from the others and he joined him leaning on the car. The brunette pulled out his own cigarette and took a drag before resting it between his fingers. Andrew barely even glanced his way, though he was itching to take out his blades and find out what exactly Neil was hiding.

 

“So does your manager know that you take day trips unmedicated? I feel like that’s something he should know.” Neil asked without looking Andrew.

 

It took only a moment for the words to sink in. A wicked smile curved on his lips, a thrill ran through him and he turned to look at the man. Perhaps Neil would make a fun play thing for the time being, more so than what Andrew had originally suspected.

 

“Oh, maybe you will be interesting indeed. When did you figure that one out Roadrunner?”

 

He was slightly surprised and impressed that Neil had put the pieces together, that it was him that had picked him up and not Aaron. He had made sure that they were dressed almost identically, to new eyes the differences would be indistinguishable but Neil had known.

 

“When I saw you and Aaron walking. I don’t appreciate the deception by the way.”

 

The man has keen eyes, but he already knew this with all the scanning he did. He supposed it wasn’t too much of a stretch for the man to put it all together. “I don’t particularly care. Besides, you never asked if I was Aaron or if I was me, so I never really lied.”

 

Plus, this was all part of the game, a test for the man. Andrew now suspected that he’d played it before. While Nicky had suggested that Neil could have been a runaway from some religious group, or even trailer trash, Andrew wasn’t so sure. At the time his suggestions made sense, but he thought that there was more to consider. To be on the street, particularly where in the city the man had been, was to be in Raven territory, and in turn The Nest’s territory. This test confirmed one theory. There was more to Neil Josten than just being a runaway or a cast out. There were very few people with the skills to character profile with so little time and interactions, now to find out why.

 

“Semantics. Lying by omission is the easiest way to lie.”

 

Andrews face had slowly become deadpanned, he cocked his head to the side slightly. “Perhaps you would know, Roadrunner.”

 

The man froze. The movement was slight, but Neil wasn’t the only one with keen eyes.

 

“Perhaps I would.”

 

To Andrew’s disappointment, the man backed down. His voice sounded tired and small. The small jab had hit a nerve, it would seem, but he didn’t bite. The next time they had this talk he was going to find that nerve and squeeze it until other man screamed. He gave him another assessing look, taking in the man’s thin frame and the cigarette between his fingers. Neil turned to look at him and he held his gaze. Though the moment was brief, it was long enough to notice the ring of blue around his pupil. Got you, Roadrunner.

 

“I’ll figure you out,” he flicked his cigarette to the ground and started to walk off. He was done with this round.

 

“I’m not a problem for you to solve…” was all Andrew heard was he ran his hand through his hair and started to plan, a smile curving on his lips as he did so.

 

Neil was going to be a problem, but perhaps not for long.

 

 

\----

 

The four men piled into the car later that evening and made their way over to Abby’s for a ‘band meeting and dinner’. Andrew wanted to be anywhere but here, even after taking his pills he was exhausted. Though, he supposed that it gave him another opportunity to observe Neil. Plus, Abby always stocked up on ice-cream for these events.

 

As soon as they walked through the door the woman had them setting the table, getting drinks out of the fridge, and helping prepare the last of the food. Andrew had retreated, opting to sit on the front step and smoke, washing it down with some whiskey. It wasn’t long before Wymack’s car pulled up. The man made his way to the door, Neil close on his heels, his head ducked down hiding behind his hood and hair _._ Andrew thought that he looked like the kind of person who would have got beaten up at school for being small and weak. He looked vulnerable. It didn’t sit right, especially when Andrew had witnessed the fire the lurked beneath his skin.

 

He felt a smile twitch on his lips. “Good evening ancient one, so glad to be in your presence.”

 

“Andrew. Always a pleasure,” Wymack replied deadpanned as he walked through the door.

 

“Roadrunner, come to grace us with your presence as well. What a day it has been, and you haven’t tried to bolt once. What improvements in such a small amount time,” Andrew said, meeting the man’s eyes. It was only a moment before Neil dropped them again making his way inside to be introduced to Abby.

 

\----

 

Dinner was uneventful; most at the table were loud and boisterous. Nicky and Abby started to argue over some person doing something, then Wymack got involved, then Kevin, even Aaron gave his piece. Andrew did not know what they were talking about and he did not care, Neil seemed to be in the same boat as he carelessly pushed food around his plate.

 

Andrew began to flick the steak knife on the table around his fingers, it wasn’t balanced like his own so it was slightly difficult. He noticed the way the light reflected off the blade shining onto the walls in shimmering patterns. He angled the blade a little more to reflect the light of his knife into Neil’s eyes, the man squinted and scowled at him before his eyes fell on the knife. When the man looked at the knife in his hand he had stilled and paled ever so slightly before collecting himself a heartbeat later. Interesting.

 

\----

 

With dinner over the group made their way to the lounge, leaving Abby and Wymack to discuss tour options and finances. Nicky grabbed some guitars from the spare room and passed one to Andrew. He begrudgingly took the instrument. He watched as Nicky made his way over to Neil who had perched himself in an armchair and looked completely out of place, almost nervous, Andrew wondered what that felt like. Nicky assured the newcomer that this was only a jam session and didn’t have to join in unless he wanted to of course. Let the ball be in his court, he was fascinated to see what the man did, would he choke? Would he be worth the effort of finding him? Nicky sat on the floor next to Neil, Aaron had dragged out a cajon to sit and tap on, and Kevin had sunk into the couch nursing a bottle of liquor he snatched from the kitchen. It was going to be one of those nights, it seemed. He’d already gone through a significant amount before they made their way over here, and even more during dinner. Andrew did not care as long as he didn’t have to lock Kevin in his room tonight to stop him from making a stupid decision, and stay awake all night to ensure it.

 

Andrew began to finger some chords, feeling Neil’s eyes on him as he did so. He kept his own eyes on the neck of the guitar and let the drugs in his system float him away from the urge to cross the room and gouge out other man’s eyes. His blue eyes apparently. His thoughts were quickly distracted by Nicky’s strumming and humming. He looked down at the lyrics and plucked at the strings. Nicky had stilled, letting Andrew take the lead.

 

He couldn’t say that he liked making music, it never gave him joy like it did Nicky or Aaron, it never gave him life like it did Kevin. But it was something to do. It passed the time and presented an opportunity to problem solve, to actually think rather than drift along in an endless haze. It was slightly less boring than doing nothing.

 

He began strumming an Em and chugging the chord. He flicked his eyes to Nicky before changing to a G and repeating the process, then he changed to a C. The other man began humming and Andrew adjusted for his voice, matching the strokes with the sound. Aaron began to gently tap and Neil looked like he had never seen anything as spectacular before. Andrew stopped and they backtracked, going back to an Em.

 

Nicky began to fold the words into Andrew’s tune, _“I'm sick and tired of all this giving up_.” Andrew changed to a G and he continued, keeping the same pattern, _“All I hear is talk, and I've had enough.”_ He moved his fingers to a C _, “Single minded, overwhelmingly one sided.”_

Andrew frowned a little, it was clunky and didn’t seem to quite work. He changed back to Em and repeated the chords for the remainder of the verse. “ _Refusing humanity, does not award morality_ / _Hope's not dead so we'll forever scream_ / _Until it's deafening”_

 

He stilled and Nicky jotted down the chords on the page of lyrics before walking out of the room. Neil looked down at the paper and frowned. Andrew watched his fingers move to form the chords and stop at the part the clunky part, clearly seeing the same problem.

 

Andrew closed his eyes to shut out the others in the room and played through the arrangement again, and tried playing an A after ‘ _single minded’._ There was a break in the lyrics so there needed to be a chord change to make it flow, an A worked, Andrew supposed.

 

It was a moment later before the sound of another guitar filled the room playing through the tune, albeit weakly. Andrew curiously flicked open his eyes to see Neil with Nicky’s practice guitar frowning down at the page full of lyrics, cautiously strumming the chords. He paused at the issue and tried an A like Andrew had done. His frown didn’t waver. He went back to the start, this time humming over the strums that had grown in confidence. This time he played an Asus2, which was similar to an A but with one less finger on the string. Though the change was slight it made a significant difference. Nicky was smiling broadly as he walked back with a glass of water.

 

“Hey that works, what do you think Andrew?” Nicky said in his general direction.

 

Andrew flicked his eyes over to him, his face a mask of apathy. “Are we practicing or not Nicky? Don’t waste my time.”

 

The man looked nervous at his response. “Right. Keep playing Neil, it’s fine. I'm not that great at guitar anyway, the bass is my baby.” Nicky said to the other man who had started to hand back the instrument.

 

Aaron raised an eyebrow in his direction. Andrew gave him the same look he gave Nicky. The chord made sense. There was nothing to discuss. Even if the man was untrained and undisciplined he still had an ear for arrangements. He supposed he was going to get blasted later by Kevin, insisting that the newbie needed to sit in the studio with him. He had already sat up and was glaring at Andrew from across the room. Andrew gripped the guitar again and Aaron tapped them in.

 

It took a while for the four of them to find their rhythm. Kevin interjected with slight suggestions every now and again, Aaron and Nicky spent a significant amount of time bickering. Neil became immersed in the song in a way that could only be rivalled by Kevin Day. It pissed Andrew off, having one junkie to deal with was bad enough. He didn’t need two, even if it was only for short amount of time.

 

It had only taken an hour of tinkering before Andrew got bored. He put down the guitar and sank back in the couch, letting Neil take the lead.

 

Nicky bopped along to the rhythm. _“I'm sick and tired of all this giving up/All I hear is talk, and I've had enough/ Single minded, overwhelmingly one sided/ Refusing humanity, does not award morality/ Hope's not dead so we'll forever scream/ Until it's deafening. We still believe.”_

 

To Andrew’s surprise Neil joined in with Nicky during the chorus. His voice was soft, but sure and strong.

 

_“We are the ones, who stay awake/ While the world sleeps/ Because we still believe/ We are the ones, who will achieve/ What the world dreams/ Because we still believe…”_

“Well that’s halfway to being almost okay,” Kevin stated.

 

“Piss off Kevin, you drunk fuck,” Aaron scowled.

 

“I’m not drunk, I’m drinking. And if you thi-”

 

Andrew sighed ever so slightly. He had had enough. He made his way over to Kevin, gripped him by the hair, cut off his words, and tugged him to his feet. The man had sense enough not to push him off, though perhaps that was more due to trying to get his balance rather than self-preservation. Andrew pushed him towards the door and threw his keys to Nicky. Aaron collected the equipment and put it back where it belonged, Neil assisting his twin. Waymack frowned at their intrusion into the dining room, and Abby held up a finger, her ear pressed to the phone.

 

“We’re leaving,” was all Andrew said as he pushed Kevin through the room by the small of his back and down the hall before he turned towards Nicky, “deal with this.”

 

“But-”

 

Andrew raised an eyebrow and the protest was over. He let the others walk on towards the car, Aaron shooting him a questioning look. He made his way towards the kitchen and headed to the freezer. He grabbed the tub of icecream and turned to leave just as Neil walked into the room.

 

“That’s not yours,” Neil said with a frown.

 

“Look at you, champion. Here to stop the ice-cream thief. I sure hope your attempts at heroism don’t go this poorly all the time or you’ll turn out being the martyr more often than not.” Neil opened his mouth as if to argue but Andrew continued. “Regardless, since you seem to thrive with team building exercises, you’re coming with the four of us this weekend to Columbia. We can make it your official _welcome_ party. Wymack seems to think you’re breakable but you seem to have more of a spine then you let on.”

 

“I don-”

 

He clicked his tongue, disappointed he didn’t catch the phrasing. “Oh Neil, you don’t have a choice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO that happened. Next chapter will be about the Columbia weekend and then get into more band plot/dynamics, hopefully chapters will be slightly longer too. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are much appreciated, let me know what you think of the plot, and the characters, literally anything? Feedback is most welcome and encouraged, I'm writing this for you guys so let me know what you think and want


	6. When I was Younger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, just a few things. Unfortunately i've been super sick over the last few weeks and while I know that I said this chapter would be about Columbia but I haven't got around to finishing writing that bit and as it is a fairly heavy chapter I didn't want to do a half arsed job and rush it. SO, here's a bit of a pillow chapter to fill in some plot points and some more music. Song in this chapter is When We Were Younger by You Me At Six. 
> 
> As always let me know what you think xx
> 
> (ignore the note at the end, its from chapter one)

It wasn’t long after Andrew and his lot had left that Neil retreated back to the lounge room and retrieved the guitar. He needed to do something with his hands to distract himself from the panic that was slowly surging in him. Andrew’s demand rang in his ears, his demeanor in general set off all kinds of alarms that were hardwired into him, even on the drugs Neil could tell that he was sharp eyed and silver tongued. Perhaps if he wasn’t Neil Josten he would have bitten back, if he was Alex he would have blackened Andrew’s eyes by now, or perhaps worse. But Neil didn’t instigate, he couldn’t afford to. The less eyes that were looking at him, the better.

 

He plucked at the strings mindlessly and let his fingers take over. He thought back to the song that they had been working on this evening. It was different to work with other people for a change. Nicky’s voice was soft and silky, unlike Neil’s which had a gravelly edge to it. Aaron was content with tapping along, doing his own thing but slotted in well with the others. Andrew was fascinating to watch, his fingers moved smoothly and quickly over the strings, he came up with quick combinations and patterns that Neil wouldn’t have thought of. He was good. Kevin had spent his time observing them, putting suggestions in here and there, telling the men when they fucked up, and how they should fix it. His antagonism increased as time passed and he absently rubbed his wrist, fingers dancing along the scar down his forearm to his wrist.

 

Neil had read about the accident that had stopped Kevin’s career as a musician dead in its tracks. A while ago before Kevin began working with The Foxes he played keyboard and did programing for a band called The Nest. Unfortunately, not long after their band gained popularity Kevin had an accident while skiing, shattered his wrist and suffered some other minor injuries. The recovery process was long, and painful. He had to undergo multiple operations to straighten and pin the bones, then contracted a bone infection, then had to go through months of rehab. It was a long process and The Nest couldn’t wait for Kevin to play catch up and moved on without him. Rather than going back to play for them, or work with their label, Raven Records, Kevin had come to Palmetto Records and began working with The Foxes as a mentor. There were rumours of Kevin beginning to play again, but nothing was confirmed and Neil hadn’t seen any evidence of it. All Kevin seemed to do was glare and tell them to do better.

 

The song that they had worked on was something that Nicky had written apparently while was in Germany with his boyfriend. Neil was shocked to find out that Nicky had lived in Germany for a time. He did some quick digging to find out when; Neil had lived just outside of Munich for a while. His mind instantly began reeling: what would he do if he and Nicky had crossed paths? What if he had heard on the local news that a young teen and a woman were wanted for questions regarding stolen vehicles and reports of pickpockets? His stomach tensed with anxiety, but it had quickly eased when Nicky told him that he had been in Berlin, far enough away that even if they were there at the same time it was unlikely that they crossed paths. His mother hadn’t let them stay there for long. One of their contacts had tipped off his father’s people of their whereabouts and they were quickly discovered. They had fled to the States as soon as they could but not before his father’s men had found them. Neil still had horrible nightmares about that run-in. Lola had cornered him before as he made his way to their hideout. She was handy with butterfly and throwing knives, but had always kept a selection of extravagant blades to play with. She had carved up Neil’s torso with a sickly curved blade, thankfully it was sharp and clean so most of the wounds he had sustained were flesh wounds that required few or no stitches, according to his mother. He still didn’t remember how he had escaped, and his mum refused to tell him, only cursed him for being too slow and unobservant. As if a 15-year-old could anticipate an ambush.

Neil shuddered at the memory and tried to focus on nailing the riff Andrew had been doing moments before. It wasn’t long before Wymack had stuck his head in the room to inform Neil they were leaving. The intrusion was unexpected and sent his heart rate through the roof, he was so unused to people talking to him, let alone men the same age as his father. He got to his feet and put the guitar away, walked down the hallway and said his goodbyes to Abby.

 

The woman was nice, he supposed. Her smile was kind, and her words genuine. It didn’t seem like she was digging to find information to exploit but rather because she cared, Neil was unfamiliar with the feeling. Neil slid into the passenger seat of the car and tried to not make it too obvious as he pressed himself as close to the door as possible. Wymack joined him a moment later and started the car. Whether he noticed Neil’s evasion or not he couldn’t tell. It wasn’t until they got back to the small apartment and the older man locked the door behind them that he turned to Neil.

 

“Are they going to be a problem?” he asked from the door.

 

Neil carefully moved further into the room and thought back to the wicked smile that curved on Andrew’s mouth, and the mind games that they were seemingly playing. But he also thought about how it felt to play with a group, to be able to play because he wanted to not because he needed a place to sleep, or food to eat.

 

“It’s yet to be seen.”

 

The older man sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Andrew can be difficult; as a group they don’t really trust outsiders or understand boundaries. If they become too much let me know. I don’t have much on Andrew but I can get to him through Kevin. He owes us his life.” Neil’s ears picked up at the information, what did that mean? The man didn’t elaborate. “Also apparently your room will be ready to move into tomorrow evening. Nicky will be over after lunch to pick you up and take you to get new clothes and stuff for your room. I’ll give you the band card to pa-”

 

“I have my own money.” He couldn’t afford to give anyone any leverage on him, owing people things was a slippery slope Neil couldn’t afford to fall down.

 

Waymack held out his empty hand, “I’d show you how many fucks I give but I seem to be out. There’s a pillow and blanket on the couch, towels are in the bathroom which is down the hall to the left. Food is in the kitchen, help yourself. I have paperwork to do, if you need anything I’ll be in the study.” Without missing a beat, the man made his way through the apartment and shut the study door behind him.

 

Neil quickly made his way over to his things and pulled out a grubby binder from the bottom of his bag. He flicked through the pages and found nothing amiss. He relaxed slightly. He pulled out his guitar and a cigarette and walked onto the small balcony. After he lit the smoke he flopped down against the wall and rested his head on his knees breathing deeply. His chest felt tight, all he could think about were his mother’s final words. _Don’t stop, don’t look back, don’t trust anyone._ The words hissed in his ears and crawled down his skin. She had lived by that mantra and she still ended up dead. He was breaking most of her rules right now, how long would he last?

 

He took a shaky breath and ran his hands through his hair. He could do this. He could stay here for a while, work with the Foxes, play music, slow down. The second things got difficult he could shed his life as Neil and start somewhere new. He could do this. He’d done it before. This was who he was. This was how he had to live.

 

He pulled the guitar into his lap and dug out a small notebook from his pocket. It was tattered from years of use and almost full of rushed lyrics and thoughts. He turned to the nearest mostly blank page. At the top there was a quick scribbled note, an unfinished line: _when I was younger…_

Neil felt the weight of the past week, the past years crush down on him like a phantom avalanche. _Finish the thought Abram._

 

He fingered at his guitar, sloppily combining chords together and repeating the pattern. His voice was gravelly and soft; he didn’t want Wymack to overhear in the apartment.

 

“ _When I was younger, I always thought/ I could be someone if I tried enough/ When I was younger, my father said/ Wear a smile, show respect. / When I was younger, you never said/ When I was older, I'd feel helpless. / When I was younger, you shone the light/ And now that I'm older, it doesn't shine bright. / When I was younger, you always said/ That as I got older, you'd always be there…”_

**Author's Note:**

> Song featured in the chapter and title is "21 Guns" by Green Day
> 
> Thanks for reading! x


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